The vibrant gypsy rhythms, and hazy summer feel, the rainbow, the wonderful, the sheer positivity, there is no oppositional assertion of identity, who cares, just join in, hot summer evening, building like a head of red wine, a giant mong of bong smoke, gently creeping up and knocking your head off, and bringing you with it, it builds and builds, and you simply dance and that, and that is, that is perhaps, not the half of it. La rue Ketanou, Y’a Des Cigales Dans La Fourmilier la rue ketan’tgetenoughofit.